Midnight Hour
by Jill2
Summary: Angel visits Buffy in Sunnydale. #4 in the "Midnight"-series. Follows "Midnight Angel", "Midnight Whispers" and "Midnight Rainbow".


FIC: Midnight Hour (1/1)   
Author: Jill  
Disclaimer: let me check ... nope, still don't own them. Sigh! Parts of this is   
taken from the Buffy-season-5 episode "Out of My Mind" and from the   
Angel-season-2-episode "Untouched".  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: B/A, B/R and the usual pairings from the show  
Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), Land of Denial, if you   
have any of my stories, take it; anybody else tell me where it goes  
Summary: Set after "Out of My Mind" and at the end of "Untouched". Two   
heroes need to talk again. This is set into cannon, in an attempt to make the   
whole series more B/A-friendly. But don't expect too many smootchies!   
Spoilers: the whole B/A-cannon to be sure, follows loosely "Midnight Angel",  
"Midnight Whispers" and "Midnight Rainbow". You should probably read it to   
understand this. And you should have seen season 5/2 or you won't know what   
they're talking about.  
Feedback: oh yes, please  
Dedication: to the B/S shippers. Sorry, but Angel is the real thing.  
  
  
The graveyard lay in silence. There wasn't a single leaf moving, not a quiet   
whisper disturbing the image of utter and complete piece, when suddenly a hand   
broke through a grave and only seconds later the person belonging to it turned to dust.   
  
Buffy shoved the stake back into her pocket and shrugged at the dust settling on   
the ground. Another vampire down, thousands more to go.   
  
When she'd become a slayer all those years ago, she'd actually believed that   
there would come a day where this would end. Where she would have killed all   
vampires, rid the earth of evil and could live a probably boring, but wonderfully normal life.   
  
Now she knew better. The day would never come.  
  
She'd come to understand that there had to be a balance between good and evil,   
that it was meant to be that way. Lately she had also realised that those two   
sides were in her as well. Sure, she was fighting the good fight, but there was a darkness inside of her. She'd first discovered it when Faith had come to   
Sunnydale, had even embraced it for a short time. And now she found herself   
flirting with it again. Not that she did it consciously, no. But it happened,   
more frequently than before.  
  
Sensing a movement behind her she pulled out the stake again and whirled around,   
only to stop in mid-motion. Closing her eyes for a short moment, she let out an   
exaggerated sigh. Opening her eyes again, her mouth twitched into a grin, "Don't   
do that," she said, a laugh in her voice.  
  
"Did you intend to tell me you'd have killed me? Sorry, but I'm dead already."  
  
She laughed again, the sound coloured with a mixture of joy and disbelief. "What   
are you doing here?," she asked and put the stake back into her pocket.   
  
One corner of Angel's mouth moved up into one of his trademark half-smiles and he shrugged. "It was the place I most probably would find you on your own."  
  
She nodded, cocking her head, "I see," she said, then sighed again. "Yeah. I   
remember. Cemeteries were kind of our favourite spots, weren't they?"  
  
"Yeah," he agreed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his duster. They were   
twitching to touch her. And that would only lead to trouble. In the worst way.   
"Comes with the profession I guess." Nodding towards the other end of Restfield,   
he asked, "Walk with me?"  
  
"Sure," she replied, falling into step beside him, her senses never quite   
shutting down, never quite relaxing.   
  
He could feel it, was familiar with it. It was a second nature to him, too.   
  
"So," she started again, "What are you doing here?"  
  
"How about I came to see you?," he asked.  
  
"That'd be nice," she said, smiling at him from the side, studying his familiar   
profile for a moment. She suddenly stopped and frowned, "Did you talk to Giles?"  
  
He stopped, too, looked at her with a serious expression for a moment, then   
sighed, "No. But Cordelia was talking to Willow on the phone. It was something   
about the computer, but you know Cordelia," he shrugged, the half-grin appearing   
again, "She likes to chat."  
  
"And so you decided you had to come to Sunnydale to rescue me?," she asked   
flippantly, instantly regretting the sound of her voice. Reaching out her hand   
she touched his arm in a way to apologize. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I really appreciate you coming to see me." She tried a tentative smile. "I'm glad about it. Even if ...," she sighed again, turned her head away and started walking again.   
  
He looked at her back for a moment, then followed. She hadn't finished her last   
sentence, but he knew what she meant, nevertheless. Seeing her was shaking him   
too. It was reviving all those impossible wishes, he was able to push down most   
of the time. But unlike he'd thought at first, he felt that it was better to see   
her - even if it was only as her friend, than not seeing her at all. He rather   
wanted to feel anything, than nothing at all.  
  
"How is your mom?," he asked.  
  
She slowed down, then stopped again. "Better," she replied, turning to gaze up at him. "I scared me pretty bad, you know. As long as I can remember she's never   
been ill. Not really." She frowned, "At least if you don't count her being bitten by Darla or hit by some computerized wanna-be husband." She missed his wince when she mentioned his sire's name and went on, "But the doctor said she'd be fine. So everything's alright at home. Well, if you forget my annoying little sister who seems to develop a talent for taking her foot into her mouth or entering rooms without knocking." She sighed, shook her head, when she saw the quizzical look in his eyes, "Let's just not go there." She tilted her head and studied him, "You look tired."  
  
He shrugged, but was touched by the concern in her voice, "Didn't sleep well," he told her, not willing to bring up his disturbing dreams about Darla. There was no way he would load up his problems on her. He hadn't come to Sunnydale to burden her even more. Hesitating only for a moment, he went on, "Willow told Cordelia about ... Riley."  
  
Averting her eyes, Buffy frowned, "Uh-huh," she only said.  
  
Feeling that she wasn't ready to talk about this yet, he quickly changed the   
subject, "And she also said Spike is bothering you again."  
  
That made her laugh, although there was no humor in it. "Spike," she repeated the bleached blond vampire's name, her voice a mere hiss. "I really should go and stake him already. But I'm just not into hurting helpless people."  
  
"He certainly doesn't fall into that category," Angel commented dryly. When he   
caught the look in her eyes, he went on, "I know about the chip, Buffy. But Spike has deserved to die. He's killed lots of people. And yeah, I might - or rather my demon - might be responsible for his existence, although I didn't actually sire him, but ...," he paused, obviously searching for the right words, "A chip is not a soul. He's just de-clawed, not changed. Inside he's still evil. If the chip was out of his head, he wouldn't waste a moment to go after you."  
  
Buffy frowned for a moment, discussing his words, then remembering the way Spike   
had looked at her in the laboratory, "You're probably right. Still, the chip is   
there. I can't forget about it."  
  
Angel smiled slightly, holding out his hand to her, glad when she accepted it and entwined her warm fingers with his cold ones. He decided that he could handle a little touch now and then.   
  
Hand in hand they walked on. "It shows that you are a good person, Buffy. You're   
human." Seeing her look doubtfully, he amended, "Or rather almost human. You have a human soul. You're certainly more human than I am. You don't combust because the sun shines down on you. But you are also the slayer. No doubt there. But Spike ... Spike is a vampire. With a chip, granted, but he's the same thing you just dusted some minutes ago."  
  
"You were watching me?," she asked, walking along.  
  
"Yeah," he admitted. "You've improved a lot. You're very strong. Much stronger   
than I remember. It took my breath away."  
  
She stopped again, grinned, "You don't need to breathe."  
  
"Figuratively speaking, of course," he said, smiling as well. "But honestly. It's like magic. Seeing you move. You're close to perfection. And believe me, I know what I'm talking about. I've seen my share of slayers of the years."  
  
"Thanks," she replied, slightly tilting her head, accepting the compliment. It   
was given so honestly, and there had been pride in his voice, something she badly needed. Not like ... She bit her lower lip, hating the thought, but knowing she couldn't ignore it. "You were ... mentioning ... Riley," she said finally, glad he was there to listen.  
  
"Yeah," he confirmed, glad she wasn't avoiding the subject anymore. Maybe there   
was really a chance for them to be friends. Despite the passionate feelings they   
were still harbouring for each other, that were too close to the surface   
sometimes. At least too close for him. He wasn't going to lose his soul ever   
again, he vowed. Not if he could help it.   
  
This was a different kind of love they were sharing at the moment, and if it was   
all they could have, he would embrace it, and hold it close. "Willow kind of   
mentioned him to Cordelia. She said he had some surgery done."  
  
"Uh-huh," she answered, and continued walking. It was easier to talk about this,   
not looking at him. Not seeing the pain in his eyes about the fact that Riley was there, was part of her life.   
  
Between them.   
  
Even if he wasn't really. Not deep down inside, where nobody had ever reached her but Angel. And where, Buffy knew it without doubt, nobody else would ever touch her again.   
  
"The Initiative sort of used their soldiers as lab rats. Stuffed them full of   
drugs, implanted chips. In Riley's case there was a chip inside his heart. It was to alter his heart-rate, make him stronger, able to fight vampires."  
  
Angel squeezed her hand and nodded, "I see."  
  
"Well, I didn't. I wrote you that he was getting insecure where I was concerned,   
but I had no idea he was ignoring his health problems because of it."  
  
The vampire stopped instantly, staring down at her, "Excuse me?"  
  
She simply nodded, "Yeah. He knew something was wrong with him. Graham, a friend   
of his, was obviously on him about it for weeks and he simply ignored it. He even developed some kind of macho attitude. He actually asked me if I thought I could take him on." She sighed deeply, "He went on patrols all by himself. We kind of ... collided. He ... he staked vampires I was meant to kill. He started doing *my* job."  
  
She took a deep breath and shook her head, laughing slightly without humor. "It   
was close to being ridiculous. But I didn't realise he was desperately trying to   
hold on to something that was part of his self-esteem. Being a soldier, a   
vampire-hunter, has been part of his life for so long, it's part of what he is.   
Without it," she shrugged, "he felt inadequate. Especially where I was   
concerned."  
  
((What's happening to you?))  
((I go back ... let the government get whimsical with my innards again ... They   
could do anything that - Best-case scenario, they turn me into Joe Normal, just   
... Just another guy))  
((And that's not enough for you?))  
((It's not enough for *you*.))  
((Why would you say that?))  
((Come on. Your last boyfriend wasn't exactly a civilian.))  
((So that's what this is about? You're going to die, all over some macho pissing   
contest.))  
((It's not about him. It's about us. You're getting stronger every day, more   
powerful. I can't touch you. Every day, you're just ... a little further out of   
my reach.))  
((You wanna touch me? I'm right here. I'm not the one running away.))  
((Not yet.))  
((So you have it all figured out? I'm bailing because you're not in the super   
club.))  
((It's human nature.))  
  
Blinking, Buffy focussed back on Angel, "He even brought you up. Compared himself to you, you know." She sighed, sadly. "He looked so lost then. So ... so scared to lose me. He said, loving me was the scariest thing he'd ever done."  
  
Angel felt a stab of pain at her words, understanding only too well what the   
ex-commando had meant by it. Riley loved her. Loved her completely, and it scared the hell out of him. He'd opened up to her, laid bare his heart and soul, made himself vulnerable. Yeah, that could be pretty scary. And Angel wished nothing more than to be in his place. God dammit. Riley had everything Angel wanted on a silver platter. How could he act so stupid?  
  
Because she doesn't love him, a little voice inside of him whispered. She doesn't love him, and he feels it. That's the reason he is insecure and doesn't know hoe to act around her. And it was also the reason Angel was concerned. What had she written to him? She was wondering if her relationship with Riley was healthy. Well, the answer was clear as day. It wasn't healthy. Not by a long shot.  
  
"He doesn't want to lose you," Angel said after a moment, tugging at her arm,   
when he started to walk again. "He feels that you're slipping away from him. You   
said he knows you don't love him. That's what this is all about. He wouldn't   
question your relationship if he was sure you loved him."  
  
"Yeah, I know," she agreed on a long sigh. "I should end it," she said suddenly,   
firmly. Then her voice faltered, "But I ... I just can't. He's important to me."  
  
"I know," Angel replied quietly, his voice flat, not betraying the pain that was   
slicing through him at her words. God, he was a hypocrite. He had no right   
feeling the way he did. But feelings were a tricky thing. They didn't ask for   
permission, they just came. Sometimes in the worst way.   
  
He thought about his dreams and the way they disturbed him, but soothed him at   
the same time. Feeling Darla close to him was strangely peaceful. The fact that   
he had killed her had haunted him for a long time. The idea that she had maybe   
forgiven him was comforting. He had never loved Darla, as Buffy had never loved   
Riley. But somehow he needed his blond sire. At least for a while. And Buffy   
needed Riley. It was strange. But also made sense.  
  
"He isn't you," she said quietly, squeezing his hand. "He couldn't be. What you   
and I ... had," her voice sounded strained when she used the past tense, and he   
could hear the pain. It made him feel better, and worse at the same time. "But he helped me. A lot. When I was lost, when I thought the ... the pain of losing you would kill me. He was there when ... when I was trying to find my way. I'll be eternally grateful for that." She shrugged, her voice small when she added, "And he's natural to me. I've come to rely on his presence in my life. Somehow he's just," she shrugged again, "... there."  
  
"I understand," Angel replied. This time his hand was squeezing hers. And, God,   
he did. He understood. Hadn't he tried to get back into Darla's good graces when   
he was lost and lonely? Confused by the images haunting him after he'd regained   
his soul, not belonging to the human race, but neither belonging to Darla either. "I would never blame you for it. You should know that."  
  
"I do," she assured him, stopping at the little wall that was surrounding the   
graveyard. "Sit down with me?," she asked.  
  
He nodded and they both found a spot side by side. "Do you know that I hated   
cemeteries while I was alive?," he asked suddenly.  
  
"Do you realise that I know nearly nothing about you. I mean about the human   
you," she replied, smiling slightly. It was so good, so natural to sit here with   
him. To talk to him. She felt free with him. He wasn't judging her. Never   
expected her to be super-girl. He knew she was the slayer, but accepted it as a   
part of her, accepted that she was human too. For the others she was the strong   
friend, the slayer, the protector, the girlfriend Riley couldn't live up to. For   
Angel she was just Buffy.   
  
She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder, remembering another night   
when they had sat like that on the roof of his hotel. There was no place on this   
earth she was able to relax like this, but at his side, feeling safe and   
protected, not being the strong one for a change.  
  
He chuckled beside her, enveloping both her hands in his, "There isn't much to   
tell. I was ...," he chuckled again, "... not really worth mentioning."  
  
"I don't believe that," she said. "You are pretty amazing now. Someone I would   
unlikely forget. So," she nudged his arm with her shoulder, "why don't you tell   
me? I'd like to listen."  
  
"You're sure?," he asked, looking doubtfully down at her. When he saw her nod, he sighed, "Alright," he began, "There you go. Here's the story of Liam-"  
  
"Liam?," she interrupted him.  
  
"Yeah. That was my ... human ... name. It means," he shrugged, and with an inward giggle Buffy realised he was embarrassed, "strong protector."  
  
Her face grew solemn, her eyes warm, "Appropriate," she commented.  
  
He shrugged again, but squeezed her hand, "Well, so there was Liam. And before he met Darla in a dark alley, he was the son of a not so poor merchant ..."  
  
He went on talking, his quiet voice sounding through the graveyard, he was   
telling her about things he'd thought forgotten for so long, her head resting on   
his shoulder, her warmth making his skin tingle, her heartbeat making him utterly alive and human.   
  
And in this moment he realised that nothing would ever really keep them apart. In one way or another they would always be together. And maybe some day even what seemed impossible could come true.  
  
END  
  
More to come. If you want, that is. So tell me? Want more? 


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